Storm Surf
by darcie-magicae-anima
Summary: Casey has a surfing accident, and he finds himself alone and running out of air. Will he survive?
1. Chapter 1

_**I don't know if people still read home and away fan-fiction, but you know, I having a fetish for writing home and away right now. The next one I'm doing I think will be based on the Danny Braxton story-line, so will be recent with what's going on.**_

_**Just a small snippet of Hurt Casey, this is just the start, it's going to be a few more chapters. Because I kinda love it when my favorite characters get hurt and it's all angsty, and personally since I've watched Home and Away for what I think is a long time there's some central characters which always get hurt, and then other characters who hardly get hospital hurt, so because of that Casey is going to get hurt.**_

_**I should feel bad, but I don't. Please review.**_

* * *

He was a little bit lonely - okay, he was very lonely. There was absolutely noone else there. Just him, him and his stupid inner thoughts about how he could be such an idiot. He was stuck with the demeaning tone in his head, whispering insults in his own voice, and Casey found himself unable to ignore it as he choked and cleared water from his nose and throat. It was strange, he'd swallowed sea water before - hell, every surfer had at some point, but the water had never made him feel nauseous before. It had always tasted salty and bitter, leaving the burning taste in his mouth and throat, but had never made him want to throw up.

He supposed it was his own fault, his punishment for daring to dive under and take on the harsh waves, especially after Mr Stewart had warned them all off going in since the storm surf was on it's way. But he hadn't thought it looked that bad on the shore, obviously he underestimated the force of those waves when they hit him; and overestimated his surfing ability. He was no Brax after all. He wasn't the fearless surfer his brother was, and as he'd proven right now, if he tried to be; the most likely result was him drowning.

Casey fought hard, but the harder he fought, the harder the beast of the water fought back, pulling him further and further away from land.

He could still see the shoreline, and the rock he'd been standing on before he'd dived - but smaller now. Seemingly drifting father away, and away, and away.

He felt himself sinking, but he had to try, anxious to get back to the dry land, knowing his surf board was long gone. Within seconds he realized - he couldn't. The rush and current had pulled him too far out, and he had expended almost all of his energy fighting desperately just to keep his head up - which he failed at miserably, ending with him ingesting salty liquid.

Casey was not 'the little fish who could'. He was normally a strong swimmer, but had weakened considerably, fatigue setting in surprisingly sharply. Something Casey hadn't expected, whenever he thought of something like this he had always imagined his energy to slowly fade away. But it was more like zapped away, and he found himself hesitating between breaths, legs and arms feeling suspiciously numb, and head bobbing just below the surface.

He was too far out, too deep so the waves weren't as hard or pulsing anymore, so he no longer felt like he was being swallowed whole when the foam hit him. Now it was just like...ripples, he just felt swaying. It was kind of relaxing, a much better respite than being forced under. Now he was just sinking, slowly, but he was still sinking and was just too damn tired, too damn numb to even attempt to swim back. Then he'd be back in range of the crashing sea foam, the kind that hurt. The blue waves eating at him now didn't hurt as much, but the salty water was still rushing down his throat as he tried to breathe. It still made him want to throw up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down?

He didn't exactly know why he was staring at sand, rock, and swaying kelp instead of blue sky.

Wrong world.

Wrong way.

He'd gone down, not up. Gotten turned around somehow, heading towards a murky grave. He was so cold. So weak. Exhausted, and barely moving.

Not one to give up, Casey somersaulted - hands scrambling at the water, clawing fingers urgent to tear their way through, propel his head back up to the life giving oxygen of his world. Arms flapping, feet kicking, nostrils burning, urging every bit of strength he had in him to climb his way out.

It seemed like a lifetime, but Casey finally broke the surface with desperate spluttering, trying to call for help. For anyone, for his brothers? Brax always helped him, and even Heath did; despite the insulting quips Casey found himself facing whenever Heath talked to him half the time. But things had been better, much better since he'd moved out from mum's, and now they were both there. But they weren't here now, not when he needed them, instead he was alone and drowning.

Little more than a second passed before one of_ those_ waves hit him again, plunging him under and he choked on foamy sea water. When had the foamy waves come back? Casey thought he was out of range of them, had he drifted closer to shore without realizing? He didn't think he had, he'd just felt down-ness. Or was it up? He didn't know anything anymore.

Casey reached the top again, not knowing how, gasping for breath. His body went rigid, cramps hitting him hard and he fought the urge to double over. Drowning was said to be a tranquil peaceful way to die, Casey grunted, not everything you googled was true. Drowning was scary and lonely - Casey's lung were already a tight mass of pain, his entire body shivering with the cold; and he found his awareness deading significantly.

Looking upwards, Casey took in the blue sky, a lone bird. Or was that a cloud passing by? Water rippled around his ears, stilling from the crashing waves for a moment. Casey was glad there wasn't anymore foamy ones, he was just swaying again now. He tilted his head far back, chin raised high, yet barely keeping his face above the water's surface. The beast of the water was playing with him, like a oversized, killer kitten - Casey being the figurative ball of yarn.

Yanking him down.

Letting him surface.

Yanking him down again.

He wasn't going to make it.

"Case! Casey!" Brax's far away voice beckoned him, so so far. Too far.

For the moment there was no foam, and no swaying, it had left him be. Casey thrashed about in a frenzy, trying to stay afloat but only slipping under - and popping back up, rasping agonizingly. He knew he was drowning slowly, agonizingly - his own fault. Everything wavered. Jiggled. Wiggled. Colors diluting, like what he imagined being high was like. And yet, Casey somehow managed to follow his brother's voice to the far far far away place, catching sight of Brax racing across the sand of the beach.

"Swim! Casey, swim!" Brax yelled, reaching the end of the shore, slashing water, diving in headlong - total abandon.

Casey scolded himself, and the fight in him was renewed.

Brax's coming.

Don't give up.

Never let go.

Just don't.

Find away.

Casey struggled, all attention focused on Brax's command, knowing his brother was on his way. He just needed to hold out a little longer, but his left arm had already gone completely numb, his other limbs would soon follow.

Casey listened for Brax, but all he heard now was the wind whistling cold in his ear, and water lapping against his neck. There was nothing but open water everywhere he looked, the shore was gone, where was he supposed to swim to? What direction? Where was Brax? An abandoned sick-in-his-heart sensation took over, and Casey knew, sooner or later, he was going under - and staying under. If Brax ever got to him, he'd be a corpse ready to dry off and bury, and if not, he'd rot at the bottom with the dead fish.

The water was freezing cold. Casey was confused, frightened, disoriented, hardly treading water.

_Swim. Casey, swim. _ Brax's voice - a warning in his head.

What?

Swim?

Casey's sluggish memory struggled to define the word. An aquatic sport. To travel through water - stay afloat, don't touch bottom, don't breathe in the liquid.

"Shit," Casey's breath came in short sporadic pants, his brain was swimming, but his body wasn't. "Ahhh!" Casey cried out on instinct, water invading with the foam down his throat, and he spiraled down. And sideways?

He wasn't sure what hurt worse, his heaving chest or the stabbing pain of sharp jagged rockface mauling his right calf. He was a rag doll, the wave flinging him this way and that, and for a second time Casey slammed into the underwater rock. A flat part this time, but it still hurt, and he still felt the back of his head crack against it. That wasn't good. None of this was good.

The water flooded with a strange warmness suddenly, and for some freaky reason Casey found it familiar. And it was when he realized he was floating in his own blood, a pillow of it clouding up the water from his raggedly ripped leg. And maybe his head? Was his head bleeding too? There was too much water to tell, and too much blood warmness from his leg for him to be able to separate what warmness was coming from where.

Was he swimming? He couldn't be certain, everything was numb, the pressure in his chest was burning, the warmness was fading somewhere and for some crazy moment Casey wished he would bleed more so the warmness would come back.

He was pulled under again, pulsing water slamming him around, he missed the rock this time. His hands groped for a hold of something, anything - a rope, even the evil underwater rock, anything to stop his imitation of a rag doll, but only water slipped through his splayed fingers.

Casey kicked at his feet. Waved his arms. But still, he sank. Ears filling with water, like a fish whose fins had been ripped off, gills stuffed with sludge.

He struggled once again up to the surface. He _was_ going up, wasn't he?

A gasping breath came to him.

"Casey!"

Casey sucked in a deep, choking breath. "Br'x." Consciousness was slipping, but he swore he could hear the slashing of Brax's hurried rescue efforts. "H're," Casey gasped in distress, the call of his name now buzzing in his ears, Brax begging him to stay with him. To hold on. "Braaa..." Casey's breath slipped in and out along with a mouthful of water. "Can't," He gurgled, shook his head.

Casey gasped another breath, some amazing miracle as no water stole it from him, and sank.

Brax wouldn't get to play his favorite mysterious superhero. He wouldn't get to be Superman.

As if on cue, above him on the water at a diagonal, the waves rippled. Strong arms reached out, cutting through the water, two legs kicking hard - propelling the human form forward.

"Brax!" Casey gasped involuntarily, air bubbles escaping his mouth, his arms searching upwards towards his rescuer, but he still sank - his body giving up. He was going to die. He continued to sink, staring upwards. Brax was still swimming, his strides fast and efficient, but still not close enough.

Everything began to slow down. The water - light blue turning cloudy brown mixed with crimson blood as Casey neared the sandy bottom. He was very deep, was he this deep before? He didn't care anymore.

Casey sucked in water, coughing silently, sucking in more. The sea tearing and burning, filling his lungs up like an old rubber boot.

No air.

Struggling violently.

Getting nowhere.

Gasping.

Water flooding down his throat, taking his tongue with it - strangling him.

Muffled sound.

Floating.

Down.

Down.

Down.

He knew he was going down now, there was no way to go up anymore.

He tried to lift his head, tried to look at his brother. Brax was all that mattered now, just seeing the man who raised him one last time, just seeing that one family member who was vaguely with him when he died. That's all he wanted, but the water pressure wouldn't allow Casey's simple last request.

He couldn't feel the pain anymore. Couldn't feel a thing. He needed to sleep. Accepting his fate, Casey let himself fade, going totally and completely limp.

The muddy brown mixed with red turned to ink-well black, the last of his air escaping in a fizz of bubbles out of his mouth and nose.

Someone or something grabbed hold of him, a firm band wrapped around his chest. Holding him afloat, tugging him upwards. Casey wanted to fight, but couldn't, all he could do was hang limply in the hold of whatever had him now.

Closing his eyes - floating in a dream.

* * *

Casey was semi-aware of being tugged from the water's hold. Dragged across soft sand. Belly flopped face down. Someone was choking, gagging beside him.

"Casey! Case..." A strangled voice summoned him, frantic in his ear. "Dammit, Casey!" He was so close now Casey could feel his warm breath on him, but he couldn't take any of the air in. "Son of a bitch. Open your friggin' eyes!"

Casey didn't want to obey, who was this nut-job? He was warm here, and strangely calm, pain free. He wanted to tell this crazed person to leave him alone, he was okay, he was at peace and wanted to stay there. But as much as much as he tried, no energy would come forth to let him.

Hands fumbled awkwardly with him, and he was rolled over roughly, his head flopping back against the sand. Cold, trembling fingers invaded his space, pressed along the side of his neck, annoyingly hard, all in various spots. Casey tried to slap the hand away, nothing worked.

"No." The cold fingers stilled on one spot. "No, no, no!"

Casey wandered through a fluffy white cloud, but everything he saw was still black. Was he imagining it? More shouting came, but it wasn't the crazed guy. How many nut-jobs were there? And why were they so loud, why couldn't they just leave him alone?

There was more shouting, and footfalls, the yelling got closer, sounding panicked and Casey felt sand fly on his face as someone skidded to their knees by his head. More yelling, so loud. The first crazed guy was snapping back at the second, the one who was by his head, making Casey's brain vibrate with the noise.

Then there was still more talking, though the first crazed guy wasn't talking to the second anymore. Now the nut-job was repeating himself, almost like a chant, sounding distant and pained.

"Hold on...hold on..."

Hold on to what? There was nothing but white fog, even though it was still black.

Now the second nut-job was talking again, it was funny Casey thought vaguely, they were all talking in chants.

"One-two-three-four-breathe. One-two-three-four-breathe." A more composed voice repeated over and over again, small amounts of warm air fluttering down his closed off throat. The second nut-job still sounded panicked, wait who was who now? But wait, did it really matter?

What the _hell?_

A pounding came to his chest, his heart? No, the force wasn't coming from the inside as it should, it was on the outside. It wasn't supposed to be from the outside, had his heart been taken out? No, that couldn't be it be it, his heart wouldn't be beating then and he'd be dead. Was he dead?

"No..." The voice was muffled as if a pillow had been shoved over his head. "...Caaaa...sssseee...yyy." He was drifting slowly, floating away, it felt nice, there was more white fog now and not as much black. Huh, he couldn't help but think, you really did see the light when you die. Shame he wouldn't be able to tell anyone about his discovery.

The pounding came faster, fisted. It nearly made him sit bolt upright, making his heart jump once then still, his body thumping hard to the ground.

And shit, okay, that hurt.

So he wasn't dead, things wouldn't hurt when he was dead. Unless death really was that cruel...

There was pressure against his chest again, ribcage moving. Bone rubbing bone. Up and down. His heart forced to beat in quick jerks. This was wrong, all wrong, and Casey was losing all of his senses.

The peace was gone.

Replaced with fear.

Lungs stuffed inside a glass full of water - crushing him. Why were these people hurting him? Why wouldn't they let him be at peace? Did they want him to suffer?

Someone called to him. No, screamed...it was the nut-job again, the first one. Was he a nut-job though? Something seemed familiar, more familiar than the feeling of warmness before he realized he'd been floating in his own blood. That was Brax, wasn't it? Brax was his brother...his oldest brother, the one he vaguely remembered being his superman when he was younger...

His brother's shaking hands were running through his hair, thumbing along his cheekbone. He couldn't hear what Brax was saying, but his brother was scared, Casey had learnt the tell-tales signs of his brother's emotions after all these years.

Something was pressing on his leg now, and Casey figured dimly that he was probably still bleeding, staining the yellow sand. His head was probably bleeding from where he whacked it earlier too, though he had never actually been able to tell if he had a head wound in the water.

The next voice came from lower down his body and Casey associated it with his ravaged leg, so guessed nut-job number two was pressing against his leg, and had spoken. He couldn't tell what it said, but it was loud, boisterous, angry, almost like a growl. Half the things he associated with Heath. When did Heath get here? No wait, Heath was the second nut-job...the nut-job wasn't a nut-job...it was Heath. But then again, Heath and the nut-job concept could be debated, he guessed sleepily.

"Dammit, you bastard! Do your fucking job and breathe!"

Okay, he'd heard _that._ Trust Heath to throw calmness and the correct method out the window in any sort distress. As far as Casey was concerned he was now ignoring the trained CPR he knew and was blindly punching his chest for any sort of reaction.

Even so, Casey tried to obey, his brothers were here now; both of them, but his body was no longer his. He twisted and turned in the white mist, turned darkness again, scratching at imaginary walls to try and find his way out. He didn't like this, it was like the water; no matter how hard he tried there was nothing grab onto. Nothing to save him.

Suddenly, he saw the green carpet of spring come into focus. A lush meadow filled with yellow buttercups and one enormous sturdy oak tree in the center. How cliche.

It was like he was captured in a world within a world, and Casey watched curiously yet warily as something appeared behind the tree. An old women with a kind face, watching him. White wings, soft as petals unfolded slowly, and her light brown eyes found his. He looked closer, a tiny drop slid down her cheek, how many facets of the universe could be held captive in a single tear?

Grandma.

He remembered her, she'd died when he was eleven, they'd been close, hadn't they? Real close, Grandma had given him what mum hadn't; she given him attention. She'd given them all attention, and Casey had locked himself in his room for three days after her funeral, only letting Brax in to give him food. Food which he'd hardly eaten, he remembered. He remembered the tears as well, even mum had been crying.

Everything was all too clear now.

Endless.

Painless.

Grandma beckoned him closer, wanting him to journey beyond the meadow. A fog of sleep crept over him, making his lids slip closed as his feet fumbled closer, his knees growing stronger as her outstretched hand found it's way to him. A few more steps, he wanted to go with her, he wanted it to stop. Grandma was warm, and Grandma was peace.

A cold frost fringed around his whole body, and he shuddered, a shaky breath escaping his parted lips, knowing he was on the edge of death. One step was all Casey needed to take to complete the journey from the cold pain of frost cracking over his skin to the summers of warmth and peace. One step and he would know all the answers to all the questions he had ever asked. Grandma stood patiently, as always, waiting for him to decide. Her eyes soft as sparrow's wings, and she offered everything he had lost and grieved for when she'd passed. When she'd passed _here._ She looked sad to see him here, but she looked happy, content. She wasn't conflicted, not anymore, she had always been conflicted and if this place she wanted to take him had made her like this...what could it do for him? He heard Grandma's voice, he was not to be afraid. Everything that lives becomes something else, there is no ending. There would never be an end of the line - only another beginning.

"Jesus, today asshole!" A voice broke forth through the silence, absorbing him. "Damn you!" It was strong, pulling him back, even though he should be running from a voice sounding so angry. But it was panicked, scared, pained - and most of all, it was demanding, the voice wasn't about to let him take that single step.

And neither was the other. "Come on! Casey come on mate, breathe. Just breathe. That's all you have to do. Breathe!" Something inside Casey recognized the fact in his oldest brother's voice was right. He needed to breathe. He wasn't done with his life, and Grandma smiled softly. She understood, she would happily wait.

Casey shivered, feeling like he was the sole source of the coldest morning he could ever remember, and the meadow turned white with frost, ice crystals hung from the oak, and the buttercups became hidden beneath a blanket of white. The spell broken, leaving him feeling like a snowflake drifting into blackness.

It hurt, and for a second as the ice consumed him, maybe longer, Casey regretted his decision.

* * *

"Casey!" His chin was tugged upwards, mouth pulled open, warm lips pressed to his cold ones. Hot breath trailed down his throat, hitting the imaginary blockage; still, not reaching him.

"Don't do this!" Fists on his chest, his heart jumped, his body bouncing and thumping to the ground. Again.

_Ouch._

Another breath.

"Dammit Casey, you are not checking out on me!"

More pumping came after Brax's exclamation, were they taking turns? Why were they taking turns? Oh wait, Casey thought sleepily, that's what your supposed to do isn't it?

Another breath. Casey could hear waves slashing against the shore, felt the faint traces of water lapping at the soles of his already wet feet.

Pumping, body jumping, heart shocking, more thumping. Maybe this just wasn't supposed to be, maybe it wasn't supposed to work...had he made the wrong choice? Had he thrown away his chance to be at peace with grandma?

Another mouthful of air.

Casey struggled, but only arms and legs twitched. Why was nothing happening? Something should be happening, maybe he really had made the wrong choice. He hadn't meant to, but Brax had always told him what to do, which he had always done it like a good little soldier, and Brax had told him to breathe, to come back. God, why did he listen to Brax? Why didn't he rebel this one time?

"Casey! Stop screwing with us, mate!"

A hard slap to his right cheek. Ow. Looks like correct method for resuscitating people had gone out the window again. Thanks Heath.

Casey's fingers flexed, something soft yet grainy filling his palm. Casey chastised himself, it was sand, what else could it fucking be?

"Casey right now!" A hard slap to his left, and Casey really wished he could hit him back. Why was Heath so insistent on hurting him?

"Casey mate! Come on...Do you hear me?"

He heard, but was paralyzed. Can't. Can't. Heath...Brax...Help. Two more deep breaths raised his chest. At least Heath wasn't slapping him anymore, now he just seemed contempt at yelling curses at him while Brax forced air into his watery lungs.

"Take in some friggin' air! Do I make myself clear?" Now Brax was yelling and ordering him too, and Casey wasn't sure whose forceful hands gripped him by the shoulders, shaking him senseless.

If he weren't in this paralyzed position, or in this much pain he would have rolled his eyes at his brother's new attempt to wake him up, because if CPR hadn't worked, shaking the daylights out of him would do absolutely squat.

He should be dead now. Why wasn't he dead? He was lying here, somehow perfectly coherent in his thoughts, not breathing and still inwardly choking on the water in his lungs and was still somehow fucking alive? He was in Casey's books anyway, was he seriously supposed to lie here forever? It hurt, he was cold, he felt sick, he was starting feel dizzy again and to top it all off one or both of his brothers had now taken to shaking the life out of him. Casey wondered briefly if the shaking thing would kill him, but then he felt dizzy again.

Die, why wouldn't he fucking die? Breathing wasn't working out, so why did the world have to be so fucking cruel to rip away his life, then his chance at happiness and leave him paralyzed and practically comatose in pain for the rest of eternity. Why wouldn't he fucking die?

The shaking stopped, and everything went still. His limp body dropped to the ground, onto the wet sand and his leg landed on the warm wetness of his own blood staining the sand.

"Casey, please." A quiet whisper broke through his dizziness, breezing across his eyelashes. Warm lips to cold blue ones again, the breaths seeming more dangerous, more desperate.

A call went across, fisted pumping again. Oh god, were they back to this? His heart was forced to pump, body bouncing, and the pumping wasn't stopping. It kept going, and going, and going. He thumped and thumped and thumped. His heart pumping madly from outside his body, out of his control anymore, and Casey felt himself slipping again. It was pointless coming back here if he were just going to leave again, he'd just given himself more pain. All the more reason proving Casey should never be allowed to make his own decisions.

Would he go back to the meadow?

Water exploded upwards, rushing from his throat into the open air in a gurgling cough, and the water he'd just retched upwards unpleasantly splattered back on his face when it came down again. He felt it leaking from his nose as well, and more retching water splattered onto his face.

"Yes!" Came an excited whoop he vaguely recognized as Heath, "Yes, yes, yes!"

"Thank God." Frantic hands rolled him onto his side, bracing his head firmly off the ground; level with his shoulders while Casey choked out the ocean he'd inhaled. His panicked gasping thoughts somehow made the way back to his sarcastic commentary of the fact that they'd already screwed up that whole possible fracture to the spinal cord stuff when they were slapping and shaking him, so why that thought had suddenly occurred to Brax now just set his head spinning all over again.

"Casey."

"Guh!" Casey tried to draw his knees inward, but it didn't really work, his coughing had him a little preoccupied.

"That's it, that's it, get it all out Case." Heath's voice was soft now, but still worried, though Casey truly believed it was better than his angry demanding voice which had ended up slapping him silly, something which Casey really hoped he wouldn't do again.

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

A faceless enforcer pummeled the center of his back, and Casey had no clue who it was anymore, who or what anything was anymore. His line of blackened vision and centered on that thin pin prick tube in his throat that was letting him get air in. When he stopped coughing his brains out anyway.

Chest throbbing, fists clenched, body robotic, mouth gaping, water gushing, gagging, convulsing. Was he crying? No, he was too busy choking, he didn't have time to cry, not when he was fighting his own lungs.

"Br'x" He gasped out, choking some more. Would this ever end?

"Here." Two strong arms wrapped themselves around him, seeming to realize Casey's earlier thoughts that they'd screwed over any fractures to his neck already. "Right here." He was tugged up to sitting, and Casey hunched, lurching forward and felt Heath catch his shoulders to hold him steady. Silent, for once. "Get it out, pal. Get it all out. Come on now, breathe in."

Casey squirmed in the hold, feeling Heath and Brax trying to push him against his older brother's chest instead of hunching himself over, all the while being vaguely aware of more shouting voices making their way to the small family at the corner of the beach.

"Breathe out." He couldn't open his eyes, lashes glued and bunched together. "Breathe in." Casey finally let Heath lean him back against the well-known body, his head lolling side to side, more water dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

He felt Heath press on his leg again, and now being more aware, Casey hissed at the pain; not understanding how the fuck he hadn't felt it before. "Shit..." He heard Heath mutter by his jacked up leg, "Brax, it's not stopping, if we don't do something he's gonna bleed out."

He heard Brax's rumble of agreement in the chest at his back, and Casey felt himself relax, ignoring Brax's quiet and worried response back to Heath. "I know, his head's bleeding too. Must have hit a underwater rock when the waves pushed him under."

He felt Brax shake his head in frustration, "Stupid, Casey. Stupid stupid stupid, what the hell were you fucking doing out there?" Brax rocked him roughly, stilling when Casey's breath hitched again. "Breathe out." He said softly, his tone quickly changing.

Casey let out a painful moan, rolling his head; and attempted to pitifully hide in the crook of Brax's shoulder. Another hand touched his own shoulder, and Casey jerked, not expecting it at all.

"Hey, easy." Came Heath's voice, also soft, "Case mate, Casey open your eyes. Please mate, just look at me."

Feeling that he did in fact owe them for saving his life, even though Heath had slapped him, Casey forced his crusty eyes open, blinking blearily up at his blurred brother sat in front of him, shirt pressed against his leg. Slowly his vision focused and Casey had to blink again at how much blood there actually was, had there been that much in the water? There was a lot of warmness...

"Casey."

His eyes found his brother's again, seeing that flicker of relief in them, and seeing the blurry background behind Heath wavering until he recognized the approaching figures. Casey's eyes flickered closed, not caring to figure out who they were and what they wanted.

He clutched onto Brax's wet jacket, ready to use it to pull himself up. "Lemme..le..mme...up," Casey gagged, trying to use the jacket as a base, but found himself pinned to a heaving chest.

"Stay the fuck still." Came Heath's growl from in front of him, "Give yourself a minute, Brax too while your at it. He just dragged your ass outta there." Casey felt his brother's hand tremble on it's place at his leg. "You almost drowned on us, hell, you did drown on us!" His voice snapped, hands tightening their hold.

"Heath...too tight." Casey panted pathetically, feeling the water sloshing about inside him.

"Huh?"

"Leg...too tight...Hurts."

"Well suck it up, I gotta stop the bleeding." Casey groaned again, wheezing in between as Heath pushed even more pressure on his leg, probably in spite. He groaned another time, breath hitching slightly as he half-hid in Brax's shoulder blade again, people still shouting in the background. Huh, he thought they'd be here by now, but then again they were really far out on the beach. Probably not the best place to take off surfing if you happened to need help, again with his stupidity.

"What we...doin' in the...r..r..rain?" Casey asked blindly, chest still heaving, blinking droplets of water from his eyes. He was aware of Brax shooting Heath a worried look, probably thinking he was delirious or something, or he had a concussion. Well screw them, Casey thought bitterly, they didn't know how drowning messed with your fucking head.

Brax lent back more as water dribbled down Casey's mouth more freely, allowing Brax to look at him properly. "Not rain, sea water. You..crap, Casey, I...you..." Casey blinked his eyes open again, seeing Brax's gaze slide sideways. "You...you went under. I didn't think I got to you in time."

"What the hell were you even doing out there anyway?" Heath demanded, jumping back into the conversation.

Casey frowned, and quickly remembered, giving a weak mumble as a response. "Oops."

"What?" Heath said pointedly.

"I...just...oops." Casey shivered, coughing again and his body vibrated against Brax's chest, dizziness setting in, his consciousness failing him once again.

"Easy." Brax's flattened hand rubbed back and forth on Casey's chest, supposed to help in relieving the convulsing but it had no effect at all. His choking got worse, and the panicked expression rebuilt itself on Heath's face as Casey lost his breath, choking, all the while knowing that his older brother could see his eyes starting to roll back into his head.

"Casey." He cried urgently, but it was muffled and then the people who had been running to their side for what felt like years finally arrived, in panic mode and they were surrounded. The little family found themselves broken up and Casey vaguely felt his back on sand again, wondering why Brax had put him back down.

He got his answer soon enough as his coughs grew in intensity and someone, who he presumed was Mr. Stewart, secured an emergency oxygen mask on his face. Oxygen was soon pumping into his skin and lips, and although it made it easier, Casey's world was still stripped to the thin sliver tube which used to be a pin prick, which happened to be shrinking to that particular size again.

Everything was going to darkness again, and all he registered was thin snippets of sentences, all spoken by different people.

"Ambulance...on it's way..."

"...long was the lad out?"

"Leg...bleed out..."

"...think...concussion..."

"Just hold...mate..."

"Need...hospital...serious damage...lungs"

"Leg...stitches...and...head"

Those sentences soon jumbled into an utterely confusing one, and people crowded in a circle around him, Mr Stewart pumping air into his face while Leah Patterson fussed about his head, close to Brax. The last thing Casey registered was the thought of why the fuck Mr Stewart just randomly had a oxygen mask on him like this, before coming to the conclusion that people must drown a lot in this town. Not that surprising, he thought, eyes finally rolling to the back of his head, sending him into oblivion.

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_**Okay, I wasn't expecting to put that part about Casey's grandma in but I hope it works, please review. I'd like to know if it's a good story so I know if it's a good idea to write another one. The next chapters should be up soon.**_

_**PLEASE REVIEW!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey sorry for taking so long to update, been on holiday and stuff :) And my birthday and that so yeah, I've been a little busy. Hope I haven't annoyed anyone for taking so long, but thats for reviewing anyway. I don't think I've ever got so many reviews for just one chapter :) So thank you!**

**If you were a bit confused by the way this is set a while after Charlie died, you know after Casey moved out from his mums. It's somewhere after that period cause Brax has been cage-fighting and stuff, I'm not overally sure where it's set. Sorry :P Hehe**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

They had tried to stay close, and even though their determination hadn't faltered or waned for a second they had found themself forced back by the paramedics, so they now stood in the same ring as the other bystanders who had come running to help. The brothers knew the paramedic's needed room to work, but that knowledge didn't stop both River Boys cursing the men in their heads, even though those cursed men were saving the youngest of them.

Brax could feel his fingernails digging almost painfully into his palms, but he just didn't care. He didn't care about anything else; not about the crowd they'd drawn, not about Leah's vain attempt at comforting him, not even about Heath's reaction. His sole focus was on that teenage boy, the pale one on the sandy floor, unconscious - the same one who happened to be his youngest brother.

The deep grey clouds low in the sky made Casey's skin seem all the more pale, and if Brax were honest, made him seem all the more dead, almost like a corspe. He guessed that the combination of the water still dripping off his brother only intensified that effect, to the point Brax had almost taken over himself again; thinking the paramedics had let his brother die after he and Heath had managed to save him.

Casey was pale to the point of whiteness, but also had that uncanny greying effect tainting his skin, the same tint which had Brax questioning if his brother was actually still alive. His bruised eyes were shut, Heath having seen the last of them when they'd rolled back after Casey had briefly woken, his lips parted slightly. The paramedics had fixed another oxygen mask over his face, rather like the standard issue one Mr Stewart had used when he had arrived - which now hung loosely in the old man's grip as he looked on.

The ambulance was standing by on the road above, the two paramedics on the ground working on securing the cervical collar to fit Casey's neck, faint bruises standing out on pale skin and Brax swallowed thickly, realising there could infact be some spinal damage, and feeling his heart drop guiltily with horror remembering how they'd shaken Casey eariler in a fit of panic. What if they'd made the situation worse?

One medic, a big guy with blonde hair, was crouched behind Casey's head, his huge hands resting almost tenderly against his brother's temples to keep his head and neck stable while the other worked further down Casey's body, stopping the bleeding on his leg. Brax's eyes travelled down from Casey's expressionless face, seeing the telltale signs of standard trauma checks - an EKG machine, blood pressure cuff, IV tubing; and realised he'd been so focused on his brother's face, he had actually missed the paramedics doing the checks. He hoped Heath hadn't missed it, and had taken note of any information he could from them, since Brax knew that sooner or later the brothers would be separated - and he needed all the information he could scrape together so he could cope before he saw the doctor.

"Here," the first EMT said, extending the neck brace to his partner. "We need to secure his neck in case there's a fracture we don't know about. Casey?" He added, lifting an eyelid, shining his little torch in briefly. "No response." He said, an answer to his own action, talking to noone in particular.

Brax swallowed again, making his way closer and shrugging off Leah's attempt to pull him back in line. There was a little room on Casey's side, room which Brax wouldn't let go free if it was there. Leah eventually gave up tugging on his arm and Brax blindly passed Heath who stood stock still, too frozen to move. He sank to his knees, never taking his eyes from Casey's face - pale, grey and wet. One of Casey's hands lay on his chest, studded with an IV drip, but the other, the one closest to Brax, was lifeless on the sandy floor, stained a little further down with blood from Casey's now bandaged leg. Brax reached out and took it gently, engulfing the hand in both of his own - all he felt was cold skin. "Casey," He whispered brokenly, "Please?"

He didn't know what he was begging for specifically, he was begging for a lot of things. For Casey to wake up again, to open his eyes and look at him, to smile and to laugh.

For the ability to turn back time so Brax didn't have to jump in and save him, so both he and Heath hadn't had to resuciate his little brother.

For Casey's injuries to be less than they were; a bump on the head, a scratch on the knee, a little mouthful of water.

And for both him and Heath not to be here right now, staring at his little brother's unconscious and still body.

Casey's eyes remained closed, as expected. Brax pushed back the hitch in his throat, and the sobs, as he realised that even in unconsciousness Casey was still gasping for air, chest heaving up and down with no restriction. Brax bit his tongue, hoping the small jolt of pain would give a break to the sobs threating to escape, he hadn't felt like crying at this level for such a long time. It worked, but barely, and Brax sadly watched as Casey's lifeless body was only made lifeful by his heaving chest, seeming to have to use all his effort and energy just to breathe.

The words of the medics became a buzz in Brax's mind, and once again Brax really hoped that for once it was Heath who was doing the listening. There was something about swelling and pressure being said, and corrections being made by people in the crowd about how long Casey hadn't been breathing, corrections which neither he nor Heath took part in, even though their contributions if they gave them would be the closest to the truth. There was talk of brain damage from lack of oxygen, fractures and Brax really didn't know what to think anymore, having thought it would all have been over after Casey had started coughing up the water.

The EMT at Casey's side looked up at his partner, a fine sheen of sweat laying across his brow, "I still don't think he's getting enough air. Check his pulse ox again for me, will you?"

"Eighty-five." The blonde paramedic replied back, having finished with the neck brace holding Casey's head still.

The first EMT's head snapped up. "Eighty-five _on_ oxygen? Christ, turn it to one hundred percent. He's still hypoxic."

Brax's hands tightened on around Casey's, "Casey," He said again, not knowing why he was bothering. The words sounded so tortured, could they possibly be his?

"We could be losing control of his airway, Ted."

"I know, we've got to go. There's still the chance he could go into shock from the blood loss."

The paramedic's had picked up the pace, grabbing their gear quickly and efficently - the first medic doing another check on Casey's leg, and something was said about a blood transfusion. Brax felt a pair of hesitatant, familiar hands come down on his shoulders softly and Leah's voice was in his ear. "Brax, they're moving him. You need to let go."

He heard, but remained where he was.

Leah squeezed, "Brax, please. They need to get him to the hospital."

He blinked hard, swallowed, and gently laid Casey's hand on his stomach, elicting no response.

Again, he didn't know why he expected one.

Brax was still on the ground when the paramedics used a backboard to lift Casey from the sand, and he was gone a moment later, leaving Brax wondering how the hell this could have happened. He needed a moment longer before he struggled back to his feet, watery knees threatening to give out at any moment before he felt the strong arm of Liam Murphy brace him. Liam pulled him forward, up the sandy hill to the waiting ambulance; Leah not far behind with Heath in tow and Brax realised he wasn't the only one who needed to be lead, seeing the supporting hand of Alf Stewart on Heath's bicep.

He saw the paramedics loading Casey into the back of the ambulance, and took quick but dazed steps forward to follow, Heath by his side soon enough; his intentions exactly the same. One of the EMTs blocked their path, "I'm sorry, sirs," he said with an authority Brax didn't think he really had. "You can follow, but you can't ride with us."

"Get out of the way." Heath growled gruffly, shoving the EMT back. The man stumbled and Heath made to run, his arm suddenly caught roughly as Liam yanked him back, followed by other members of the crowd before he caused serious damage.

Brax vaguely recognised the worried faces of some of his own River Boys in the mix, those being the ones to grab Heath with the fastest speed and without any of the hestitation the others had. Unsuprising it drew an even more angier response from Heath, which sent some of his River Boys in full on fight-defence mode, knowing how voltile his brother could be.

Taking the distraction as his own cue to get to his unconscious brother Brax made to move as Heath violently elbowed one of the bystanders in the face, elicting a cry of pain and tighter restraints from the others. Heath was most definately far from happy.

Before Brax even made a lunge to go forward he had Leah's arm around him, tugging him away with a strength he didn't know she posessed before he could offer his own blow to the EMT. "They're having trouble maintaining his airway, Brax," she said, her voice low and raw in his ear. "The last place they want you or Heath is in the back of that ambulance if they have to intubate him on the way." Brax bit his tongue, thinking and considering a little, but his determination still held strong.

"Come on," Leah pressed, "you can get a lift with me, you and Heath aren't safe to drive right now." She tugged on his arm again, glancing briefly to where Heath now had five people on him, one having backed away with a bruised cheek. "I swear Brax, we'll be right behind them the whole way."

He nodded, no longer capable of words for the moment, seeing the double doors slam, the engine to the ambulance starting up. A small burst of aderaline hit him again, and he turned, pushing people back and grabbing Heath's arms in a firm grip. "Leah's giving us a lift."

"Fuck that! Casey-"

"They've already taken him Heath." Brax said quietly, and he surprised himself when he realised his voice had actually come out even.

Brax then watched with his own pang of sadness as Heath's head snapped up, looking over Brax's shoulder, seeing that while he'd been fighting with the locals Casey had infact been taken away, and he hadn't even noticed. Heath shook his head, panic in his eyes again.

"Were not leaving him, Heath." He said quickly to reassure his brother, and saw Heath's previous restrainers backing away in relief. "We'll be right behind him, okay?"

Heath swallowed, "The c-car?"

The next thing Brax knew Leah had both his and Heath's arm in a tense hand each, pulling them towards the waiting car not far from where Casey had disappeared from. Leah got them in the back quickly, and almost immediately they were on the move.

Brax found himself staring out at the front window; the ambulance a few cars in front of them; it's flashing lights blaring at him but Brax didn't see it.

The siren of the ambulance wailed infront of them, but he didn't hear it.

The only senstation now - the only thing left, was the feeling of Casey's cold hand in his, and he clung to that with all he had.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

How long had they been there? God, how long had they been there? Brax clenched his fingers again, head bowed at his lap with his brown eyes hidden beneath closed lashes. He sighed in frustraion and annoyance, his tense and slightly trembling hands running raggedly through his hair.

"Dammit Heath, will you stop pacing!"

All he got in return when he renched his eyes up to his brother was a well-placed glare before Heath stubbornly started up again, scrubbing his hands over his mouth. The same thing he'd been doing for the last 20 minutes, and the same thing which had been putting Brax on edge for the last 20 minutes. Fingernails dug deeper in irriatation, "Heath."

Once again Heath's head bucked with the warning, his glare quickly returning with crushing force, and this time, he didn't bother to hold his tongue, bursting out with profanitites that would make a sailor blush with shame and embarrassment. Heath of course, didn't.

Brax didn't blink an eye at the language either, knowing Heath's bad tongue when it came to distress - since despite his brother's impulsivness, Heath could be so damn predictable at times.

"It's not helping anyone." Brax said back, interuppting him with a louder voice though he did use a more soothing tone to calm Heath's temper, something which he noted was rearing very quickly and would reach breaking point in just a matter of time.

"And us stuck waiting here isn't helping Casey!" Heath snapped back, his arms waving sharply for empasis, his voice increasing with volume by each word.

"Calm down mate," Alf Stewart warned, taking a little step forward, causing Heath's head to snap angrily towards him. "There's other patients in here, they need their rest just as much as Casey will."

The blow out happened just as Brax expected it to.

"Fuck that! You think I care about anyone else...!" Brax zoned out as Heath continued his firey tirade - or temper tantrum in Brax's personal opinion. It sounded eeriely like the kind of one Heath would have a small child - minus the swearing, and the same kind which would lead to the destruction of a plate or something. That just proved how much Heath had actually grown up over the years, Brax couldn't help but think sarcastically, destruction was still his main fortaye.

A few nurses glanced their way with the noise, some with irriated and appraising looks; probably for the same fact that Mr Stewart had mentioned, in that other patients were trying to sleep down the hall. The select few of the crowd they'd drawn on the beach which had followed them, consisting of Leah, Alf and Liam; the ones who had arrived first onto the scene stood back in silence as Brax held up a hand to stop them from intervening. He would handle this.

Heath's volume didn't decrease by much with the looks from the nurses, and the own one Brax sent his way was very uncourtieously ignored. "Casey's the one were supposed to be helping and...and," Brax stood himself, grasping Heath's biceps when he began to stutter and hesitate, shoving him gently into a seat, Heath's rambling continueous as he sat, still tense. "And we're-dammit Brax were useless!"

"I know."

"We should've been in there, we shouldn't have left him. We should have been in that god-damn ambulance!" Heath shook his head furiously, starting to push himself up again, undoubtably back to his pacing.

Brax shoved him back, "Sit down." There was no room for argument in the words, and Heath found himself deposited back into the waiting chair a moment later. Despite Brax's tough-love approach, the only one which seemed to work with Heath from Brax's experience, the eldest could see how uncomfortable Heath was feeling with everyone around.

Afterall, it wasn't everyday _anyone_ saw Heath Braxton so worked up.

Leah was hovering close by, watching with a tight, concerned expression, and Alf still held onto her arm from when she'd tried to step in eariler after Heath's voice had first risen. Her arm was held with a soft grip; and yet the old man's fingers were digging into her muscle, constricting her from moving forward. Liam was standing within an arm's reach, and Heath was in front of him from where Brax was knelt, and the eldest could see his own emotions swimming in Heath's eyes.

Faces, so many faces - and none were the one either of them cared about.

Brax sighed, "Heath...look mate...you think I wanted to leave him?"

"Well you let him-"

"_Do_ you think I wanted to leave him?" Brax interuppted Heath's definace firmly and forceful, raw and deep sounding to his own ears.

Heath looked down from the intensity of Brax's stare, "No." He admitted quietly.

"Mate look at me," Brax waited until Heath's relcutant eyes met his again. "I wanted nothing more than to get in that ambulance and get near him. But Leah was right, they needed to work and we would've gotten in the way. Casey's health is more important than what we want, I wish it wasn't," He added on, "because I was ready to kick that EMT's ass same as you when he stopped us, but it _is_. Casey's health is what matters right now."

"He needed us in there-" Heath fought, and for a mili-second Brax blanched, trying to think back on a time when Heath had ever sounded that broken.

"He was unconscious-"

"That still doesn't mean he didn't need us."

"I know." Brax sighed, stretching out and seating himself on the chair next to Heath. "I know, mate. I know." He finished, muttering into his hands.

Brax then felt a nudge on his arm, and he slowly lifted his tired eyes up to gaze at Heath over his arm again. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

Brax snorted, shaking his head, "We swapped roles now, have we? I thought I was the one who had to do the comforting."

"Decided you needed a break."

Brax's lips quirked a little before he blew a little puff of air from his nose, closing his eyes and facing the general direction of his lap once again. He seemed to find himself in that exact position alot recently.

"You didn't answer my question."

Brax rolled his eyes beneath the lids, but he wasn't sure what kind of answer he could even begin to give his brother. Spent adrenaline was still flushing out his veins, taking with it the residual terror that had locked his muscles and stilled his heart when he'd first pulled Casey from the water. "I'll be better when I see Case." He admitted, trying a smile which he was pretty sure Heath noticed didn't reach his eyes. "Same as you."

Heath nodded in understanding, looking at his own lap, and Brax didn't doubt Heath was feeling the exact same thing as him.

Exhausted and spent, yet alert and worried.

Their lives were so full of contridictions at the moment.

Brax glanced up, "Role swap again." Heath raised an eyebrow, looking that tiny bit amused, and Brax sighed a little inwardly in relief, glad that Heath could still find a scratch of humor in any situation. Maybe he wasn't as far gone as Brax had orignally thought. "What about you?"

"Pissed off." Heath ground out, amusement gone and Brax looked down the hallway, hoping if he imagined the doctor appearing in his mind he could somehow conjure the real one.

He heard Heath growl again, and he bit back another sigh, more annoyed than exhausted as he predicted that once again Heath's temper was returning. Predictable bastard. "How the hell can you be so calm and fucking composed?"

Brax's hands clenched again, feeling his own fury burn in his veins, angry adrenline renewed. He was no longer annoyed, no longer chargrined, no longer even worried; now he was just filled with an outragous need for violence fuelled by a passion to hurt the man who dare ask the question and all it inferred.

Blood burned, eyes widened with rage and Brax lost all semeblance of any order he knew. Wildness only knew his heart, convulsing with rage and he wouldn't be surprised if he looked like a savage, because he only knew one thing at that moment, he was relentless with the pain he could cause.

He lost control.

The next thing he was aware of as the savage took over was he suddenly had Heath's collar in his hands, renching his brother almost off the floor, Heath's back blocked by the wall. He heard Leah and Liam's call of alarm, but he really couldn't pay attention to anything else with the blood rushing in his ears.

"You think I'm calm?! Do you really think I'm fucking calm right now?" He knew nothing else beyond the demands he yelled at his brother or of the offence ringing in his ears. If Heath wanted to provoke him he'd done a fucking great job at it.

And now once Brax had started, he couldn't stop. "I'm screaming inside and I want to punch everything in sight!" He screamed furiously, hands trembling yet still tense against Heath's collar. "You think I can drag Casey's practically dead body from the water and see him layed up in an ambulance without a second thought? Shut the fucking hell up Heath, your not the only one whose killing themselves inside-"

"Brax!"

"What?!" He yelled, yanking his arm roughly from where Liam tried to grab him, slamming Heath's head against the wall again, at this point not caring at all if his head cracked open. The relenteless need to hurt was spinning uncontrolably in his head and Brax was pretty sure he could almost feel the electrical impulses zapping in his brain.

Heath with a concussion really wasn't something Brax minded at all anymore, anything to get him out of his sight, even if it was in his own hospital bed. Nothing else mattered above the confrontation, and Brax faltered just a little, Casey mattered more; he'd said it himself. And yet the rage kept on bubbling and bubbling until Casey was nolonger there. Brax no longer knew where Casey was, just Heath's question and just his anger...just...the unwavering need to prove himself?

Was that why he was so angry? Because of what Heath's question was incinuating - that he didn't care?

The offence came flooding back and Brax felt no shame, only satisfasction as Heath flinched; his head slamming into the wall again. He didn't understand, how could he not understand that the fact whether Brax cared or not wasn't even in question? It couldn't and wouldn't ever be.

Heath was scared and panicked for the brother he had practically bullied his whole life until the last few months when they'd moved out from mum's, and he had the audaticy to say that Brax felt nothing. Was it just him, or had Heath seemed to have forgotten the fact that Brax was Casey's sole raiser, and was by far the closest brother to him.

Brax was right, whether he cared or not wasn't even in question.

But even so, that knowledge didn't have the power to stop his destrution. His world narrowed again to rage, his angry thoughts screaming in his own whirlwind of a tornado full solely of demands and his own justifications.

The only reason Brax had a smidgen of calmness was for Heath's own benefit, something his brother had just thrown back in his face.

Just because he wasn't pacing and yelling didn't mean he wasn't angry, pissed off, worried and scared out of his mind.

Was anger and rage what Heath wanted of him, was that the way Heath wanted him to act? Was this good enough for him then?

Was this hostility and violence enough for him?

Was this malice doing absoulutely anything to help his little brother?

No.

But once again, he couldn't stop...venom was staining his teeth with the bitter taste, the resentment towards his brother making him want nothing more than to bite.

"Brax cut it out!" Liam yelled, as Heath found himself slammed into a wall again, seeming now to be too shocked to react properaly and fight.

"Walk away. Brax walk away!"

Another smack against the wall, a flash of Heath's wide eyes - then a shove. Brax felt himself stumble, his back smacking painfully into the corner of a portable shelving unit, a few objects cluttering to the floor. He noted briefly that he'd wake up with a blueish bruise on his side, but he didn't have time to explore that fact, his own fist launching itself at Heath again.

Liam yelled out, hand reaching but the punch still fell and Heath stumbled backwards as his head snapped to the side, a chair falling with another clatter to the floor. His brother lauched himself at him, but despite Heath's temper Brax did had the experience of cage fighting, and he kicked at his brother's knees before he was in range of Heath's coming fist. Heath realiated with a grunt, fumbling on his knees before righting himself, starting forward.

Brax ducked a punch, a shock of pain jolting through him with his own grunt, realising far to late that Heath had faked the hit, and Brax was now trapped in the entrails of his rugby tackle. He shoved and punched, the clattering of chairs and portable shelving units panging against the floor in the hallway - but Brax was only focused on that aderline pumping in his blood. Calmness was no longer an option, and he neither saw nor heard the nurses call for hospital secruity, everything blured and dilated, swaying colours of red in the space of light, blocked by the dark blue of Heath's vest Brax's face was squished against.

He shoved and pushed with a frenzy and Heath toppled over onto the side with the help of Alf Stewart as Liam pushed himself between them. Heath started again, and so did Brax who saw only eyes filled with animosity, and tainted red walls of his own vision...and then the normal white hospital walls and floors, then a firm grip on his arm as he was dragged away.

Brax didn't know how, and he probably never would, but somehow with those magical powers of hers Leah was somehow suddenly leading him down the hallway, assuring the hospital secruity guards she had it under control while Liam and Alf were left with the slightly stunned and slowly calming Heath.

Brax turned around to glare again, not quite fighting the urge to turn back and further Heath's black eye to accompany the sore bump on his head but Leah quickly had his hand again, dragging him down to get coffee. "Walk away." She reminded him, tugging again.

The rest of the way was in silence, and Brax didn't realise they were there until he was plopped down in a plastic chair, similar to the one he'd forced Heath down into less than five minutes ago. Leah sat opposite him, concerned yet Brax didn't miss that flicker of disappointment cross her face before he looked down at his hands.

"That was a little uncalled for, wasn't it?"

He couldn't help it, he glared. "Heath's question was uncalled for."

Leab sighed, looking away and fiddled abesentmindly with the keys in her hand. She caught his glare again, "He's worried Brax."

"You think he's the only one?!" He snapped, adreline still running and Brax found himself having real trouble at squashing down that urge to pick a fight again, something he distracted himself with by giving his palms finger-nail sized cuts.

He realised when she answered that Leah did infact know him too well, since she didn't flinch at all by the heated tone, more than likely she'd come to associate that type of reaction with the Braxton clan. "Did I say he was the only one?"

Brax's hands clenched again under the table, not willing to answer that particular question. "Leah, I really don't need this right now."

"I think you do."

"It's not up to you." He shot back, "_I_ don't need to talk, I don't need to calm down, I don't need to do anything. What _I_ need is to see Casey's doctor, and I need to get back because he's not going to come looking for us down here." He went to stand, then sat and relented, cursing Leah's magical powers of manipulation. The women didn't even have to say anything.

"Brax...look, seeing Casey is what _both_ you and Heath want, but that can't happen if secruity kicks you out of the hospital. Then you won't get to see him, and Casey won't get to see you; something which I'm gonna guess he wants just as much as you do."

Brax looked down at his palms, and didn't answer, feeling his phone vibrating in his back pocket. He was pretty sure he knew who the general person was, having had another round of vibrations eariler before the blow out. But eitherway, he fished out his phone as a distraction, opening the text from, as expected, another one of his River Boys. He was pretty sure, or he knew, that those who had been at the scene by the ambulance had sent out the word, and now they were all bugging him and Heath - since he'd caught Heath pulling out his phone a number of times too, for good news. Or bad.

He sent out a quick 'No news' as he had done for each and every text, before sighing again, back to the situation at hand. Most of his anger was gone now with the break, and the worry for Casey which the fury had clouded over was back - and for a long moment Brax wished he could lose control again.

Despite the flaws of it - destruction and brotherly harm being just some of the flaws, it was a great respite from his soul-clenching worry.

Glancing up at the patient Leah he could already see where the conversation was leading, so he skipped a few sentences ahead to the point he knew was approaching. "Heath had it coming."

"Why?" Her voice was soft, inquiteive even and Brax burned again inside, sending another glare Leah's way. She didn't flinch, again, and Brax swore she was too close to the family to not falter like everyone else did when given that Braxton gaze. "I understand that the question wasn't what you wanted to hear but-"

"But what?" He cut her off, "But he had a right to ask that?"

"Easy." Came the warning, hands up in the air, palms facing him and Brax bit his lip, at this point really hating the hold Leah had on him. "I didn't say that but...Brax I'm sure he didn't mean it the way you thought he did." Her hand came up again when he tried to interuppt, "Let me finish. He's Heath, Brax, did you really expect him to react another way other than anger and trying to shift any sort of blame he can find to someone else to make himself feel better?"

Well she had him there, and Brax made note on top of the other one, _way_ to close to the family. "Look, I get that your upset and worried about Casey, but you can't let Heath get to you like that. Especially since I'm pretty sure a concussion wasn't the course he hoped for when he asked you the question." Brax's lips quirked a little at that, "I know that your conflicted right now, and I'm pretty sure Heath does too but he's on edge, no doubt like you are but your just better at controling it than him. Okay? You can't lose that control Brax."

"Why?" Now it was his turn to ask, "Why? Why do I always have to be the one in control, why do I always have to be the one to force themselves to be calm for other people, why is it always me who has to do the work?"

Leah gazed sadly at him, "I don't know." She answered honestly, "I guess that's just who you are."

Brax sighed, hands coming over to tiredly rub his face again, any residing anger flushed out and banished from his veins, instead filling him with an incrediable urge to sleep. Sleep, which happened to be the one of the things he knew wouldn't come easily for a long time - let alone right now.

And yet, Brax could almost convince himself that it had all been a bad dream.

These things, after all, were the stuff of nightmares.

His world had stopped when he'd first recognised the boy in the water as his own brother, looking tiny and panicked in the waves he stood no chance in fighting. Brax was pretty sure he had stopped breathing then too, and he hadn't started again until Casey's mouth became a water fountain and he started coughing up the god-forsaken stuff. He was also pretty sure he had stopped again when his brother had gone limp once more, before he'd found Casey gone from his arms leaving him alone on the floor surrounded by people who just _weren't Casey_. Everything from there to now had and was a blur of sound and emotion, allowing him to neither think nor act for himself above slamming Heath into a wall, and he felt like he'd stumbled through the time like a man struck blind.

Brax could count on one hand the number of times he'd been paralyzed like that, and they'd all ended in waiting rooms just like this one, with panic crawling like spiders on his skin. But, never once could he remember something with such serious consqeuences before, this was by far the worse possible thing that could have happened. Because it hadn't happened to anyone; it hadn't happened to a friend, mum, himself or even Heath - it had happened to Casey, and this time in the waiting room held the most conflict. Noone knew at all how this could turn out, you could only hope and pray.

Leah's voice came back to him like a guide, soft and questioning and yet it didn't really let him give an argument, leaving only to follow her instrutions. And honestly, Brax was relieved she was there to make the decisions for him, he still felt like a man gone blind.

"How about we go back up, huh? We don't want to miss Sid when he comes out." Brax nooded numbly and stood along with Leah, who still had her keys held loosely in her hand, he had no idea why. Making their way back to the corridoor outside Casey's room Brax managed to esemble some part of himself, giving Leah a heads up.

"I'm not apologising to him."

He saw Leah give a soft smile, "I wasn't expecting you to."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Is Casey out yet?"

"Sorry mate, the doctors are still in there with him." Brax sighed angrily with Alf's answer, feeling Leah's calming hand on his arm again, magical powers working as his impatientance disappeared just that fraction. He wasn't sure if he was happy with the fact she had those powers, or annoyed since it kept leaving him in a spin.

He shook his head, scrubbing another hand on his face - his new addiction, directing his attention away from Heath intentionally, who at least had that smidgen of brains left to not attempt at talking to him. He felt another hand touch him for attention, and he turned towards Liam.

"Listen mate, I gotta get back to the restruant, my shifts starting and I can't get anyone to cover for me."

"Yeah yeah, just go." Brax waved off, "We'll call you if we hear anything."

"Okay, thanks." Liam said quietly, walking away down the hallway, Lean patting his arm on the way; a reassurance to look after them.

Liam gave her a quick smile, "Try and make sure Heath doesn't come out looking like a punch bag."

Brax didn't know about everyone else, but Liam's response; probably meant to lighten the mood, had no effect on him what so ever, just gave the reminder of why he was now sat on a chair a fair few spaces away from Heath.

The suspense carried on for another ten minutes, where Brax spent it alternating between growling and sending quick glares Heath's way to fill the time, but for the most part it was spent the same as it had been for the first 20 minutes - twisting his hands together in his lap. He wasn't cold but he was trembling a little, and he couldn't think yet he was praying in words that ran together - not of coherence but of emotion, broad swaths of desperation and pain; trying to put to _any_ God who would listen just how his heart was being torn into strips of fear.

He knew there were other people in the room with him - Leah, Alf Stewart, Heath, the hospital liaisons, nurses and staff; but he saw none of them. He saw none of them anymore in his dull world which was bathed in the lights of worry and impatientance, not even the closest of Leah beside him. He saw none of them; no one until the tall, broad-shoudered doctor that was Sid Walker, a stesopscope wrapped over his neck, came walking down the hallway.

"Brax?" He motioned who stood without restraint, and the others drew in around him - Leah at his side, Alf Stewart leaning tiredly against the chair but still gave the upmost attention, and Heath standing at his other side, not caring if he risked another punch. The rest of the room; the rest of the world even, fell away for Brax.

"How is he?"

* * *

**Please Review!**


	3. Note

**_Hi, guys I just thought that I'd tell you that I'm deleting my whole account because I'm werid and not happy with it or most of my stories right now. But DON'T WORRY I will finish this story, because this is one of the only stories I'm properly happy with right now. After my account gets deleted it'll disappear but I'll repost it and then add the new chapter, which unfortunately I haven't finished yet because I've been busy with the new year at 6th form but I promise I will get it done sooner or later._**

**_Darcie._**

**_xxx_**


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